


Other Things

by sasha_b



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How can I possibly go to school on a day like today?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> For comment fic; inspired by the quote above from Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

"Hiding from me?"

"Absolutely not."

The sun beats down on the knight's face, browning the skin save for the crinkles around his eyes. The commander cocks a brow, arms crossed over his chest, his sweat soaked tunic and baggy, ancient leathers dirt streaked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Lancelot, knight of Camboglanna, but we had patrol scheduled this morning at dawn. And then there was the little matter of weapons inventory."

He doesn't look at the commander; shifting on the ground, the knight crosses his wrists behind his head in a mockery of the other man's position and licks his dry lips. The wine bottle behind him is open and almost empty, the ground he's laying on sloped and comfortable. The cool snap in the air stirs his hair and dries the last of the water that remains on his bare skin - the river nearby still gurgles audibly.

"There are some days one must do other things, Arthur."

Silence. Lancelot cracks an eye open and sees the familiar muscle jumping in Arthur's jaw, and he smirks and sits up, reaching for the bottle, raising it to his lips and finishing the lot as Arthur watches. He lifts it in a tired salute, dropping it to the grass as he winds slender arms around his bent knees. The grass tickles his flesh and he shivers as the sun begins to cross behind the trees, yellow and gold and dappling his thighs and biceps with sparkling warm beauty.

Arthur sits next to him heavily, and Lancelot's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The Roman looks at him, the green eyes bloodshot, ever-present stubble dark and shadowing his face. Arthur lifts his right foot and toes his left boot off, then does the same with the right, his eyes never leaving Lancelot's face. He pulls his tunic off, folding it neatly and setting it down next to the knight's discarded things. His hair stands up in crazy whorls and finally Lancelot shoots out a breath, the crackling of the leaves above them competing with the river noise - 

"I hesitate to ask, commander, but since it is so out of your normal behavior, what are you doing?"

Arthur smiles tightly and lifts his buttocks, slipping his leathers over them and kicking them off, the black pooling on the bright green grass, a blight of dark that stands out in the emerald. "I am also doing other things," he muses, and when Lancelot opens his mouth to laugh, the commander leans over and snatches at Lancelot's hair, tugging the other man to him, and kisses him, stubble scraping and hands rough and tight.

Lancelot reels for a moment after Arthur breaks away, the bare assed Roman commander standing and heading for the river as the last of the sun still heats the forest around them. He touches his lips and watches as Arthur picks up speed and at last leaps into the (now) frigid waters and the smile that blossoms is brighter than the waning light.

"Which you should do more often," he says to the woods and grasses and empty bottle and discarded clothing and he collapses to his back, the dotting early stars that have started to appear winking at him, infinite in their possibility.


End file.
